Return of the VCS-Nightmare

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Billy walked into the the stations small bar. Customary of most space station bars, it was a dingy compartment filled with tables bolted to the floor and yellow lighting illuminating the space. Sitting at the bar, Billy ordered his usual drink. Sipping his Liberty Ale, he looked around the space. It was rather late, and the bar was mostly empty. In the corner however, there was a man sitting alone, looking out a small viewport.

The bartender noticed Billy's gaze, and begun to speak. I see you have noticed our resident the Captain without a crew. Sad story, if the scuttlebutt is to be believed. Billy turned back towards the bartender, and took another sip of his drink. What do you mean, what's his story? The Bartender leaned forward, and begun telling the story.

Well, scuttlebutt is he's Ex- Liberty Navy. Dishonorably discharged due to his actions, or rather inaction during the Purge of Bering. I couldn't find anything on the Neural Net, the Liberty Navy must have kept things hush-hush. Rumor is he refused to fire on the Freeport when ordered. The Hellfire Legion saw the opening and pounced on his Siege Cruiser, vaporizing it. He was the only survivor from the bridge crew, and only a third of his crew made it off before the reactor detonated. The Navy tried charging him with dereliction of duty, but without bridge recordings or corroborating witnesses they charged him with something minor and discharged him. He won't talk about it, but I'm guessing he is here in some messed up sense of atonement for his sins. I talked with some of the boys down in the maintenance shop, he works salvage onboard one of the scrap freighters. He only goes out when they are scrapping near what's left of his old command. I guess he's clinging for any memory or reminder. Not sure, but he walks like Navy, talks like Navy...hell if it wasn't for his clothing I'd say he was born Navy. As the Bartender finished his story, the mystery man lifted his bottle as if it where empty. The Bartender noticed, and reached for a new bottle in a small ice-chest.

Billy sat, pondering the Bartenders story. He thought back on his time in the Vagrant Raiders, and the second chance Blain Spike had given him in the Vagrant Raiders. Something dawned on him, something he had not thought about since he had changed his transponder to remove the Vagrant Raiders IFF from his Scimitar all those years ago. He realized that he was once in the same shoes as the mystery man, someone with no clear goal, no home, and ultimately no family.

The Bartender moved to walk the Beer over to the mystery man, Billy stopped him. I'll take it over to him. Also put his drinks on my tab. The Bartender nodded, putting the beer down and walking to the sink. Billy picked up the beer and walked towards the man. As he closed the distance, he started making out the mans features and posture. His hair was completely white, and his right half of his face was covered in surgical scars. His lower jaw on the right side had been replaced by a completely mechanical covering, and his right eye had been replaced with an artificial replacement. Noticing Billy's arrival, the man stiffened up, his posture going rigid as if expecting an attack.

Billy sat down opposite the man, offering the beer as if to offer a truce. The man looked at the beer and spoke. Thanks. The man took a sip of the beer, and put it down. It's all true. What the Bartender said. I hesitated, and my crew died. Now please let me drink in peace. Billy, stunned by the mans affirmation, followed his gaze out the window trying to think of the correct words to say. He chose to be honest.

I Buried my ships former Crew two days ago. All 250 of them. Some of them I knew by name, some I don't even remember their faces. All they are are specs of dust floating in Coronado now. Did they deserve to die? Probably not. They where performing their duties, and died with honor doing their duties. When I found the ship, I was in the same shoes as you. Alone, with nobody to turn to, with everyone I once knew gone and dead. The ship and crew I loved floating derelict in space. I sat there at the helm of my transport, staring at a relic of the past. Taking a long chug from his drink, Billy continued looking out the window. The man looked at Billy, studying his features.

How did you recuperate? How did you come to terms with it? How did you move on?

I didn't. I don't think I ever will move on. All I can do is honor their memories, and know that I will do the correct things moving forward. I won't abandon my crew...my family again. The ship that they kept running for so long will fly again, despite its damage. Billy finished his drink, and turned towards the man. I am going to be honest with you, I don't know the first thing about commanding a warship. And I certainly don't have an Executive Officer to help handle the load. If you would like to discuss it tomorrow, I'm staying on the station for two nights. I'm in room... Billy looked at a note with some numbers on it, and read off the compartment number.

Think about it. If you'd like a home, and move on, let me know. Have a good evening. Billy stood up, and walked over to the bartender. Settling his tab, he left the bartender. After watching Billy leave, the man turned back to the window, and thought about his previous command.

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Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.